


Dude.

by sevenup_and_seagrams



Category: South Park
Genre: Love Letters, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, a lil angsty, well you interpret the ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24245527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenup_and_seagrams/pseuds/sevenup_and_seagrams
Summary: Kyle writes Stan a letter at the end of senior year.
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh
Comments: 6
Kudos: 57





	Dude.

_Dude,_

_I love you._

_Is it silly to start out like that? Most - love letters - or whatever the fuck this is; they work up to the 'I love you'. Not this one, I guess._

_I'm writing this because we're about to finish our last year of high school. I couldn't tell you before. I thought about it, I really did. But I knew it would change everything between us, Stan, and I value our friendship - or the one we used to have, really - more than anything._

_I had a fuck ton of fun with you growing up. Remember when we were kids, and we sat together in Mr Garrison's class, and put up with Cartman's shit together, and played hide and seek in the forest behind your house when we got sick of our other friends? You've been my best friend since then._

_I realized I loved you one day in eighth grade. Me, you, Kenny, and Cartman were all sitting together at lunch time. I was sitting next to you and across from Kenny. There was spaghetti for lunch that day, and Cartman reached across the table and dumped my lunch in his tray. "Probably wasn't kosher anyway, you good-for-nothing Jew," he told me. Before I could even yell something about him being a fatass, you stood up, picked up his lunch tray, and dumped it on his head._

_I remember sitting there in awe, and amidst Cartman's screams and Kenny's laughter, I just stared at you, grinning. And somewhere between there and the moment Mr. Mackey was dragging you off to his office, I had realized I was completely, utterly in love with you._

_Some kids hated high school. I thought it was really fun. Middle school was what had sucked. In high school went to our first party, drank booze for the first time, and smoked weed in the middle of nowhere for the first time. We grew up, but we stayed young at the same time. Me and you and Kenny watched Terrance and Philip marathons every few months. You and I played the same, immature video games we always had._

_I remember once, we were playing Halo in my living room. My parents and Ike were asleep, and it was like 2am, and - this must've at least been halfway into our sophomore year, because we would've had to been able to drive to have made a Walmart run earlier. We were practically high on Mountain Dew and Doritos, and I took a break from playing and I looked at you, sitting next to me on the couch. Your hat was in your lap, and your hair was all dark and messed up. Your face was lit up by the TV screen in front of us. I looked at your upturned nose and focused eyes (which Wendy called blue, but I could've sworn, in least in that moment, that they were grey) and scrunched up mouth. I looked at the dark little freckle you have on your jaw. And Stan, I suddenly wanted to kiss you. Real bad. I mean, it's not like I hadn't ever thought about it before, but I had never just been with you in one moment and wanted to kiss you so bad. I wanted to push the Doritos bag between us off the couch, lean over, run my fingers along that freckle, and kiss you. This probably sounds ridiculous, but I don't think I've ever wanted anything more in my life._

_I remember thinking it was funny I wanted to kiss you that bad one random night when we were playing video games. Not when we were alone at one of Craig's parties, or when we went into the woods and smoked pot to see what it felt like and we sat, side by side on a rock, stoned. Not even when you told me that one time that I was more important to you than even Wendy was._

_Oh, God. I didn't like Wendy. Yes, for obvious reasons, I was jealous. She got to hold your hand in the hallways, and wear your sweatshirts, and brush your hair back behind your ear as you got textbooks from your locker. But I hated how much she fucked you up. I thought it was ironic. She was always such a stable, organized person when it came to school, assignments, clubs, and everything else she did. But it didn't seem that way with you guys. Sometimes it felt like she was just breaking up with you for the drama of it all. And you would always be stuck, for the next few weeks, in a state of sadness and, a lot of the time, drunkenness._

_But she made you happy (at least, when you guys were together), so I put up with her._

_I don't think you remember this at all, but about a year ago, at around 1am, I woke up to a call from you. I answered, and kept repeating your name and asking if you were there, but you didn't say anything. I thought it might be some kind of weird prank call or butt dial, but I had a weird feeling about the whole thing, so I didn't hang up. Finally, you said into the speaker, "Kyle, I need help," and I knew you had to be alone somewhere, drunk out of your mind. I asked you where you were and you said you didn't know, but everything was cold and white. I don't know if you hung up or if your phone died after that._

_I drove around town for what seemed like ages, checking the park, and Main Street, and all around your house. I finally found you at Stark's Pond. You were lying down in the snow, clothes soaked, with dried vomit on your sweater. Your face was red and wet with tears, and your fingers, clutching an almost-empty bottle of vodka, were blue. If it wasn't for your half-open eyes, I wouldn't have thought you were conscious. I was scared to death, Stan._

_I picked you up and helped you into the passenger seat of my car. I took off your shirt and wrapped an old towel I found in the backseat around you. I turned on the heat and drove you down the back roads of this town as fast as I could._

_I wanted to take you to my house, but I had family staying with us at the time, so I snuck you in through the back door with the key you guys keep under the doormat. I helped you get out of your wet clothes and into some new ones, and I made you drink about three cups of water before you passed out on your bed, turned the wrong way so your feet were by the headboard. I put a pillow under your head and covered you up with a blanket, and then I just sat there for a few hours, making sure you were fine. I left before dawn._

_That was the worst I ever saw you, but it tore me apart, dude. I never told you I brought you home that night. I have no idea what you thought when you woke up that morning._

_I thought about telling you I loved you after that night. Obviously, you were hurting, and even if it was a shock and you couldn't return my feelings, it had to be a little boost for your ego, right? And I felt like you deserved to know._

_No, I told myself, that was stupid._

_Besides, if I told you, I knew it would change things between us. It wouldn't be 'just the boys' anymore, would it? It would be awkward for you, and embarrassing as hell for me, and I knew you would have your guard up if we ever hung out after._

_We had some pretty good friendship moments, though. Not just between the two of us, but with Cartman and Kenny, too. Remember when the four of us drove to Taco Bell at 11 pm and Cartman got so excited at their new Dorito Taco at the drive-thru that he fell out of the car window, and Kenny hurdled over the console to the driver's seat and floored it, leaving Cartman squirming on the pavement? We all laughed so hard our sides hurt. You were the one that made us go back and get him, and he got so mad he squirted Taco Bell Bold and Creamy Ranchero Sauce all over my car? It's been months since then, and my car still smells like Taco Bell, but I think of you guys every time I drive somewhere. I really don't think it would've been the same if everyone had known how bad I wanted to suck face with you._

_God. What if Cartman knew. I'd never hear the end of this - what a fag I am._

_That was weird to say. I guess I dont really think about it much - I must be gay or something, dude. I don't really know. All I know is that I love you. That's all I've thought about - you, Stan Marsh._

_Well, that's it, I think. When I finish writing this, I'm gonna go to Craig's last party, say goodbye to everyone, and hug you goodbye. Then I'll stick this in your window where we used to send notes to each other as kids (where I know you won't miss it, because I've been a pussy about telling you this for way too long), and I'll head home, and start packing up my things for Summer A. I leave Thursday._

_It's up to you if you want to come see me or not. Please know I don't blame you at all if you don't. It's weird. I get it._

_I wonder if I'll ever fall out of love with you. It's been five years now. God, Stan, I don't want to be desperately in love with you for the rest of my life, and never move on. Never have a life. But I can't imagine someone as kind, and fair, and insightful, and cute as you are ever existing, let alone loving me. I don't even know if I'll ever feel as high with anyone as I did when you and I had deep talks, or shared a glance at something one of our friends said, or laughed until we cried at an ungodly hour of the night._

_I feel bad putting this on you, but I thought you should know. And I think I had to tell you for me, too._

_If you made it this far, Stan, thanks for reading this. You've always been a great friend to me. I already miss you. I really hope we don't fall out of touch._

_Love,_

_Your Super Best Friend,_

_Kyle Broflovski_

Stan's mouth hung wide open, his gloved fingers still clutching the sheet of paper. 

**Holy fucking shit, dude.**


End file.
